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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Posted on 01/12/2014 6:41:22 PM PST by not2be4gotten.com

I remember poetry night, at the kitchen table, every Wednesday.

When I was a kid, I hated "poetry night" when we had supper together.

My mom made us read poems, every Wednesday night.

It was so uncool.

That was 30 years ago and I was in my teens.

And now, I ask you to consider the following:

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost...


TOPICS: Society
KEYWORDS: poetry; robertfrost
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My mom was so uncool
1 posted on 01/12/2014 6:41:22 PM PST by not2be4gotten.com
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To: not2be4gotten.com

We moms are actually mandated (internally) to be uncool.


2 posted on 01/12/2014 6:45:14 PM PST by bboop (does not suffer fools gladly)
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To: not2be4gotten.com

I love your Mom....


3 posted on 01/12/2014 6:48:10 PM PST by cherry (.in the time of universal deceit, telling the truth is revolutionary.....)
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To: not2be4gotten.com
So what did you think of The Witch of Cos?
4 posted on 01/12/2014 6:48:52 PM PST by gusopol3
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To: not2be4gotten.com
I thought of posting the proper scan of this poem but this seemed like a better idea:

Robert Frost reading his poem,"Stopping by woods on a snowy evening"

5 posted on 01/12/2014 6:49:21 PM PST by concentric circles
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To: not2be4gotten.com
Poetry is very valuable. It distills emotion and thought and wraps it up in stirring sentences. It helps us understand what it means to be human, by boiling things down to their essence. Or at least it did, until it became weird and meaningless.

Some songs now fill the vacuum left by the departure of quality poetry, but few songs even make the effort.

6 posted on 01/12/2014 6:51:00 PM PST by ClearCase_guy (Anti-Complacency League! Baby!)
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To: not2be4gotten.com

I’m not sure why, but I think about this one a lot.

Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries

These, in the day when heaven was falling,

The hour when earth’s foundations fled,

Followed their mercenary calling,

And took their wages, and are dead.

Their shoulders held the sky suspended;

They stood, and earth’s foundations stay;

What God abandoned, these defended,

And saved the sum of things for pay.

A.E. Housman


7 posted on 01/12/2014 6:57:13 PM PST by Tijeras_Slim
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To: not2be4gotten.com

Frost was a homophobe. He used the word “queer”....


8 posted on 01/12/2014 6:58:18 PM PST by freebilly (Creepy and the Ass Crackers....)
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To: not2be4gotten.com

First heard the last lines of this poem in Telefon with Donald Pleasance and Charles Bronson! Cool film! I thought the lines of the poem were dark and mysterious as well!

Mel


9 posted on 01/12/2014 6:59:34 PM PST by melsec (Once a Jolly Swagman camped by a Billabong.)
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To: not2be4gotten.com

That was the first poem one of my elementary school classes studied. I never forgot that poem since.


10 posted on 01/12/2014 7:00:14 PM PST by BerryDingle (I know how to deal with communists, I still wear their scars on my back from Hollywood-Ronald Reagan)
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To: concentric circles

Thank you for that. I posted a few poems on Facebook, but that is happily a dying media.


11 posted on 01/12/2014 7:02:07 PM PST by real saxophonist
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To: not2be4gotten.com

I think poetery is repulsive!


12 posted on 01/12/2014 7:03:50 PM PST by dalereed
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To: not2be4gotten.com

Is this related to the new Apple iPad commercial with Robin Williams reading either Frost or Whitman?


13 posted on 01/12/2014 7:06:17 PM PST by cicero2k
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To: not2be4gotten.com

It’s funny how vivid this poem is without including a bunch of details. Somehow he’s able to invoke the scene in your mind with relatively few and relatively simple words.


14 posted on 01/12/2014 7:06:40 PM PST by Yardstick
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To: Yardstick; not2be4gotten.com

Dust of Snow

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.


15 posted on 01/12/2014 7:11:14 PM PST by concentric circles
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To: dalereed

You’re not attracted to it ,then?


16 posted on 01/12/2014 7:15:37 PM PST by moose07 (the truth will out ,one day.)
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To: not2be4gotten.com
In one of my favorite episodes of the TV show 'Elementary' Watson gave Holmes a frame potion of this poem on the one year anniversary of his sobriety.


The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


I find the words comforting and think on them when I think of giving up on something.
17 posted on 01/12/2014 7:16:58 PM PST by Kartographer ("We mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.")
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To: not2be4gotten.com

Lovely musical setting of that poem:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnmpKiort2g


18 posted on 01/12/2014 7:29:09 PM PST by randita
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To: not2be4gotten.com
If you give a listen to Led Zeppelin's "No Quarter," Frost's lyrics can be made to fit that tune with just a little bit of adjustment.

Discovered this in college, I did...

19 posted on 01/12/2014 7:36:32 PM PST by Oberon (John 12:5-6)
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To: not2be4gotten.com
First remembered poem

NOVEMBER

No sun - no moon!
No morn - no noon!
No dawn- no dusk - no proper time of day -
No sky- no earthly view -
No distance looking blue -

No road - no street! -
No "t'other side the way" -
No end to any Row -
No indications where the Crescents go -

No top to any steeple -
No recognitions of familiar people -
No courtesies for showing 'em -
No knowing 'em!

No mail - no post -
No news from any foreign coast -
No park - no ring - no afternoon gentility -
No company- no nobility -

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member -
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!


20 posted on 01/12/2014 7:36:41 PM PST by Stand Watch Listen (DEFUND the GOPe it wants our money, our votes, but NOT our principles/values/beliefs)
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To: not2be4gotten.com

I had to recite that poem in first grade in 1967. I played hell learning every line in that poem but I got it done. I still remember the words after all these years. Thanks for the reminder.


21 posted on 01/12/2014 7:38:58 PM PST by HANG THE EXPENSE (Life's tough.It's tougher when you're stupid.)
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To: not2be4gotten.com

That’s beautiful. My dad could recite stanza after stanza of Kipling when I was a kid. And “The Highwaymn, the Highwayman came riding up to the old Inn door...”

He’d learned these poems and committed them to memory in his teens and could still recite them when he was in his fifties.


22 posted on 01/12/2014 7:43:02 PM PST by afraidfortherepublic
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To: not2be4gotten.com

I love that poem, and the image it raises.

I grew up on “A Child’s Garden of Verses”, and a favorite all my life is “The Best Loved Poems of the American People”. It is a treasure!


23 posted on 01/12/2014 7:46:10 PM PST by Exit148
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To: afraidfortherepublic

Phil Ochs singing The Highwayman:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9fWjzYiRUE


24 posted on 01/12/2014 7:47:17 PM PST by ClearCase_guy (Anti-Complacency League! Baby!)
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To: dalereed
I think poetery is repulsive!

I just find that to be so ... well, so poetic.

25 posted on 01/12/2014 7:47:52 PM PST by RobinOfKingston (Democrats--the party of Evil. Republicans--the party of Stupid.)
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To: Stand Watch Listen
I really like Robert Frost. Because he was so "accessible", is the best word to describe him.

As I've lived many years since then, I lean towards Yeats.

My favorite poem, because I don't QUITE understand it, but I like attempting to.

When You Are Old By William Butler Yeats When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

26 posted on 01/12/2014 7:48:32 PM PST by boop (Liberal religion. No rules, just right!)
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To: bboop
And we subtly relish watching our own kids be uncool parents! :-)
27 posted on 01/12/2014 7:49:37 PM PST by grame (May you know more of the love of God Almighty this day!)
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To: not2be4gotten.com

Thanks for this thread.
The thoughts evoked
From what you said,
Will comfort me
As I head to bed.


28 posted on 01/12/2014 7:53:04 PM PST by Graewoulf (Democrats' Obamacare Socialist Health Insur. Tax violates U.S. Constitution AND Anti-Trust Law.)
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To: not2be4gotten.com

Here is one I like.

“I think that I shall never see, A billboard lovely as a tree. Indeed, unless the billboards fall, I’ll never see a tree at all.”-Ogden Nash


29 posted on 01/12/2014 7:55:19 PM PST by Ruy Dias de Bivar (Sometimes you need 7+ more ammo. LOTS MORE.)
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To: boop

That was wonderful!


30 posted on 01/12/2014 8:00:32 PM PST by not2be4gotten.com
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To: not2be4gotten.com

Thanks to your mom.
What a lovely thread. Memories come flooding back. The very first poem that I memorized in 2nd grade was:

God’s World

O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
  Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
  Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour!  That gaunt crag
To crush!  To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,
          But never knew I this;
          Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart, — Lord, I do fear
Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me, — let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Edna St. Vincent Millay


31 posted on 01/12/2014 8:02:31 PM PST by Velveeta
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To: Ruy Dias de Bivar

“I think that I shall never see, A billboard lovely as a tree. Indeed, unless the billboards fall, I’ll never see a tree at all.”-Ogden Nash

From the same author:

You shake and shake the ketchup bottle; none comes out, and then a lot’ll.


32 posted on 01/12/2014 8:08:44 PM PST by mouske
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To: not2be4gotten.com

An elementary school teacher once gave my older sister two poetry books: Poems of Childhood (Eugene Field) and A Child’s Garden of Verses. She abandoned them and guess who appropriated them?

When Cummings came to read his poetry at my college, and he got to the part where he mentions the UN, he pronounced it “the un.” I was the only one who laughed.

A college buddy used to have Eliot on 33rpms. “All aboard. It’s time.” That was what we did instead of studying.


33 posted on 01/12/2014 8:10:54 PM PST by firebrand
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To: boop
When You Are Old ...
Yeats is one of my favorites too. I once visited Thoor Ballylee, his tower home in Galway. One help in understanding, “When You are Old” it is to read about his tempestuous relationship with the beautiful Irish actress Maud Gonne. She broke his heart but his love for her never died.
34 posted on 01/12/2014 8:16:29 PM PST by Old North State
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To: Ruy Dias de Bivar

If you should behold a panther crouch,
Prepare to say ouch.
Better still, if called by a panther,
Don’t anther.

For the longest time I said “quid pro quo” instead of “quo pro quid” because that was the way Nash had it. Or do I still have it backwards?


35 posted on 01/12/2014 8:16:33 PM PST by firebrand
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To: randita

That was very nice.

Thankyou for that...


36 posted on 01/12/2014 8:17:54 PM PST by not2be4gotten.com
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To: not2be4gotten.com

In high school we had to remember a portion of a poem by William Cullen Bryant. I did not like literature classes, but I still remember that poem, “Thanatopsis.”

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust; approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.


37 posted on 01/12/2014 8:22:20 PM PST by mouske
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To: not2be4gotten.com

I love that poem...


38 posted on 01/12/2014 8:25:52 PM PST by DouglasKC
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To: not2be4gotten.com

About that poem..do you think it’s about a guy weary of life that is thinking about just ending it right there?


39 posted on 01/12/2014 8:28:28 PM PST by DouglasKC
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To: not2be4gotten.com

One of my favorite poems, though, as a MS born and bred girl, I rarely ever saw snow. It wasn’t until I was an adult, married, and moved north of the Mason Dixon line, that I understood this poem. Standing in the woods, with a heavy snow falling, is just such a peaceful place.


40 posted on 01/12/2014 8:42:38 PM PST by SuziQ
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To: Old North State
Thank you for the info. That does explain the man who loved the old woman "at one time".

I still don't know what the "crown of stars" means.

41 posted on 01/12/2014 9:05:16 PM PST by boop (Liberal religion. No rules, just right!)
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To: boop

Dang! CROWD of stars.


42 posted on 01/12/2014 9:05:58 PM PST by boop (Liberal religion. No rules, just right!)
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To: SuziQ
Standing in the woods, with a heavy snow falling, is just such a peaceful place

Many times I experience that exact comforting stillness. When in a northern climate, I put off shoveling snow until midnight. The surrounding enveloping stillness, the fresh glistening snow, inhaling full breaths of that cold exhilarating frigid air...all just energizes, yet calms my soul.

43 posted on 01/12/2014 9:11:19 PM PST by Stand Watch Listen (DEFUND the GOPe it wants our money, our votes, but NOT our principles/values/beliefs)
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To: mouske

We had to memorize those verses. Where I finished school, you bought your own books. Many of the used books had that section cut out as the former students using the book took them out to carry home in their pocket and memorize the verse.

My book was used and that was missing, so I found someone else’s book and hand wrote those verses, then had a girl who was taking typing class, type it for me.

“...silent balls of death” is what she typed.


44 posted on 01/12/2014 9:14:37 PM PST by Ruy Dias de Bivar (Sometimes you need 7+ more ammo. LOTS MORE.)
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To: not2be4gotten.com
Few years back I was having a conversation with the dental hygienist during a pause in her doing her thing with my teeth - she said that when she was younger she had never liked poetry in school, but that recently she had run across this poem about "stopping by woods on a snowy evening" which she hadn't appreciated before, but that now she understood what it was about and wished she had paid more attention in school - too soon old, too late wise.....

By now I prefer -

Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows.
What are those blue remembered hills?
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content -
I see it shining plain.
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
AE Housman A Shopshire Lad.....

45 posted on 01/12/2014 9:19:34 PM PST by Intolerant in NJ
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To: not2be4gotten.com

Dark, dreary words, in a land of ice and snow,
Where cold is king, and measured ‘in below’,
Pot-belly stoves blaze, not wnough heat fer two,
and all the while lurks, Dangerous Dan McGrew!


(borrowed from Robert Service)


46 posted on 01/12/2014 9:24:47 PM PST by Terry L Smith
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To: boop
Your referenced poem seems to me full of regret. Regret in that with the passage of time (dream of the soft look Your eyes had once), she never quite acknowledged his love for her (Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled ), and that he had to watch her age without his true love even acknowledged. Seems the woman is passing her youth, reminisces the days he was in her life and very much in love, yet presently she has choosen to ignore his past and present love

IMHO....

47 posted on 01/12/2014 9:29:41 PM PST by Stand Watch Listen (DEFUND the GOPe it wants our money, our votes, but NOT our principles/values/beliefs)
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To: Stand Watch Listen

I like your interpretation.


48 posted on 01/12/2014 10:51:48 PM PST by boop (Liberal religion. No rules, just right!)
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To: afraidfortherepublic
My dad could recite stanza after stanza of Kipling when I was a kid.

I can do that. Kipling is a favorite. I've been reading my grandkids some of his stories for kids.

/johnny

49 posted on 01/12/2014 11:51:03 PM PST by JRandomFreeper (Gone Galt)
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To: dalereed

>> I think poetery is repulsive!

Aarg, the futile make of pottery,
the devil’s wile, his poetry,
my callous hands cannot take,
the gob and his foolish poetery.


50 posted on 01/13/2014 12:02:15 AM PST by Gene Eric (Don't be a statist!)
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